Magical Perceptivity and Manipulativity
by cuckundu
Summary: An emotionally void boy with a strange, rare power is forced into the post of Head Boy to combat an approaching menace at Hogwarts.
1. Letters, and Birth

23:07 GMT

31 August, 1990

* * *

_Dear Mr. Ezekiel Bohr,_

_It is my privilege to inform you that the Headmaster has selected you as the Head Boy for this year. Although it is uncommon for non-prefects to become Head Boy or Girl, it is not unheard of, and I personally doubt that your lack of experience will hinder your ability to undertake this responsibility whatsoever._

_You are required to attend a brief meeting in the second passenger car of the Hogwarts Express at 11:00 AM sharp. Here, you will be instructed in your duties, and given the password to the Head Boy's and Girl's private quarters._

_Best of wishes,_

_Professor Minerva McGonagall_

* * *

_Dear Professor McGonagall,_

_Honored as I am by your decision, I respectfully decline the position of Head Boy._

_Sincerely,_

_Ezekiel Bohr_

* * *

_Dear Mr. Ezekiel Bohr,_

_The Headmaster would like to inform you that you "will accept the position of Head Boy whether you like it or not."_

_Best of wishes,_

_Professor Minerva McGonagall_

* * *

_Dear Professor McGonagall,_

_It was my understanding that a student reserves the right to decline the position of Prefect or Head Boy if he wishes. Please explain why I am being excepted from this rule._

_Sincerely, Ezekiel Bohr_

* * *

_Dear Mr. Ezekiel Bohr,_

_The Headmaster wishes to meet you privately after the start-of-term banquet. He does not wish the matter to be discussed until then. Please assume that you are Head Boy until then._

_Best of wishes,_

_Professor Minerva McGonagall_

* * *

Ezekiel read the letter wearily by the light of a small spell hovering over his shoulder. He sighed and let it slide off the edge of his desk. It floated in the air for a moment, then began to fold itself into a perfect paper crane. The crane flapped its wings and did a single lazy circle around Ezekiel's desk before soaring gracefully into the fire.

He looked over at the beat-up dresser in the corner, or rather, at the wand collecting dust on top of it. With a single, silent hand gesture, he summoned it to himself. _Looks like it's that time again._ He dropped the wand into his Muggle suitcase, then went to bed, extinguishing the light that dutifully followed him around with a lazy wave of his hand.

* * *

00:03 GMT

28 February, 1974

* * *

Assistant Healer Fuerenne held the babe at arm's length, as if it may explode at any moment.

"...Healer? Is there something wrong?" Mr. Bohr asked, a look of concern on his strong-jawed face.

"He's silent," she replied. "I've never seen a newborn completely silent."

Then Fuerenne looked into the babe's eyes, which were wide open and bright blue. A look of fear, a very sharp look of fear looked back at her. Fuerenne's eyes widened and her heart skipped a beat. No baby should be able to give a look like that.

"May I see him?" Mr. Bohr, putting more than a little pressure in his voice.

"No, not yet, I'm sorry, I need to test him. Something is very strange..." She set him down on a pile of towels on an examination table, and began to wave her wand in circles around him, muttering spells to herself. Every now and then, when a break came in her chanting, a bright glyph would materialize over his head, every one of them identical, all of them glowing a reassuring green. Fuerenne stepped back, thinking hard to herself. _There's definitely something different about him__, but he's passed all the standard tests._ Then a notion crossed her mind, and her breath caught. _It matches, it definitely does,_ she thought.

"Healer. What is wrong with my son?"

"He may... well, I don't know, it's much too early to make that kind of assumption but I need to test anyway..." Then she waved her wand again, and muttered a series of incantations that went on for nearly a minute straight.

A new glyph materialized this time, floating above the baby's head, casting a bright red glare in his wide eyes. Fuerenne audibly gasped.

"_Is my son alright?_" Mr. Bohr asked, the strain clear in his voice.

Fuerenne ignored him, and began to brandish her wand in the practiced motions, finishing with a small flourish and the incantation, "_Expecto Patronum._"

A tabby of molten silver burst out of her wand, landing lightly on the tiled floor and turning to look up at her. Fuerenne knelt and told it, "Go straight to Mistress Yennith. Interrupt whatever she is doing and tell her, 'The boy is born, and has confirmed MP.'" The cat nodded once, meowed silently, and sank through the floor.

"Healer Fuerenne," Mr. Bohr said. "_What is wrong with my son?_"

Fuerenne turned to face him, leaning against the table as if she were faint. "Your son... he has an _extremely_ rare condition. He... he shouldn't be in any danger, if action is taken immediately."

"Surgery?"

Fuerenne shook her head. "No, MP and MPM are psychological, kind of. He must be treated with the utmost care. Mistress Yennith will explain when she arrives."

As if on cue, the door burst open, and a tall woman with cropped black hair rushed in. Her green Healer's robes had wide sleeves, with luminescent white silk lining the inside. The customary Healer's hat was askew, and she was clearly out of breath, as if she had run all the way to that room. "Show me the boy."

Fuerenne jumped off the table and gestured to the baby, who was still completely silent. Yennith loomed over him, closely examining his face under the pale light coming from her sleeves. Carefully, she lifted the babe off the table, and held it at arm's length, staring closely into his eyes.

Mr. Bohr instantly recognized the process, and stepped forward, his mouth open to protest. Fuerenne waved her wand and cast a silent _Protego_, stopping Mr. Bohr in his tracks. _Do not interfere,_ she mouthed at him with the utmost urgency.

For ten minutes, Yennith stared into the baby's eyes, which regarded her with a cool apathy. Fuerenne and Mr. Bohr watched silently; Mrs. Bohr was still unconscious on the bed, totally neglected.

Finally Yennith blinked once, twice, and shuddered frightfully. The baby now looked at her with a palpable awe. Yennith set him gently back onto the towels, then pointed her wand and muttered, "_Somnium._" The baby fell asleep instantly.

Yennith sank into the other visitor's chair, wiping the sweat from her forehead. "Wake the mother," she instructed Fuerenne, who hastened to obey.

"Mistress Yennith?" Mr. Bohr said. "What the hell is going on?"

"_Ennervate._"

"Is something wrong?" Mrs. Bohr asked, looking around groggily. "Where is he?"

"Sir, Madam," Yennith said, "your son has a condition called MPM. I've just verified it with Legilimency."

"Legilimency! Surely that's dangerous to perform on a newborn," Mrs. Bohr protested, lurching into a sitting position.

"It is," Yennith admitted, "but it was necessary in this case."

"What is MPM?" Mr. Bohr asked.

"MPM stands for Magical Perceptivity and Manipulativity. It is a much rarer and much more powerful form of MP, Magical Perceptivity."

"And what does that mean?"

Yennith sighed and leaned forward in the chair. "Well, does Hogwarts ever teach about the Fabric of Magical Energy?"

"No," Mr. and Mrs. Bohr both said.

"That's no surprise, it's an obscure bit of knowledge. The concept is that there is a sort of framework of flowing magical energy that envelops the entire Universe, which is invisible to you or I. Wizards can manipulate it with wands, and to a very slight degree by themselves, as in the cases of accidental magic among juvenile wizards. It is, quite simply, the substance of magic. It's the reason we have the powers we have."

"What does this have to do with my son?" Mr. Bohr asked, impatience showing in his eyes.

"A wizard with MP can observe this Fabric. There are three known wizards with MP alive today."

"And MPM?" Mrs. Bohr asked.

"A wizard with MPM can observe the Fabric, and manipulate it telepathically. Your son is the seventh wizard with MPM in recorded history."

There was a very long silence as this sunk in.

"Can I see him?" Mrs. Bohr asked tentatively.

"No, you may not."

Mr. Bohr flared up. "_Why not?_"

"There is a third factor that can interact with the Fabric besides wands and wizards themselves – emotion. Your son is able to sense the emotions of those around him as direct interference in the Fabric. As a newborn with a developing brain, any exposure to emotions, especially those of his parents, could be very dangerous."

"How dangerous?"

"The best-case scenario, should you not allow us to care for your son, is that he will develop an extremely strong case of autism."

Fearfully, Mrs. Bohr asked, "What is the worst-case?"

"He goes completely insane and is unable to communicate or function at any level beyond breathing."

The parents took this in, the implications slowly dawning on them. "What happens if we let you... care for him?" Mr. Bohr asked.

Yennith looked up at him with sympathy. "Your son will be taken to a specially designed facility, where he will be cared for indirectly, through scrying and long-distance magic. If you allow us to care for him, this is the last time you will see your son for eleven years."

Mrs. Bohr's breath caught.

"Th-that's absurd! How can you separate him from us?" Mr. Bohr sputtered, tension evident in his voice.

"Think, Mr. Bohr! Imagine the emotions of you and your wife should you ever visit him. A single visit could damage him permanently. He must be isolated until his brain has matured sufficiently, or I can promise you, the results will _not_ be pretty."

Mr. Bohr looked back at his wife. She looked up to him with teary eyes, and nodded. "Fine," Mr. Bohr said, deflating. "Fine. If it's best for him, we'll give him over to your care."

Yennith smiled tentatively. "Thank you, Mr. Bohr."

"How much will it cost us?"

"Oh no, you needn't pay for it," Yennith said, shaking her head. "This is a research opportunity – we'll gladly pay for it all."

The Bohrs nodded.

"Fuerenne, get the boy," Yennith said, standing up and walking to the door.

"Wait!" Mrs. Bohr cried, stopping Yennith and Fuerenne in their tracks. "He must have a name." Yennith nodded to Fuerenne, who carried the babe over to his parents.

Mrs. Bohr stroked his head once, twice, and whispered, "Ezekiel." She kissed his forehead, tears openly falling down her cheeks now. "Goodbye, Ezekiel."

Then Fuerenne carried the baby away, and Yennith closed the door behind them.


	2. The Train, Swish, and Flick

9:13 GMT

3 September, 1990

* * *

Ezekiel Apparated directly into Platform 9¾ this time. No more running through walls, and he was very glad for that. No one was on the platform except for some maintenance workers and a rather short man sitting behind his newsstand. After kicking his suitcase onto its wheels, he towed it up the platform until he reached the second car. A quick wave of his wand (so as not to alert the people around) and a magical push on the suitcase gently levitated it up the steep stairs, into the small hallway adjoining the stairs and the main room of the car.

Inside, the entire car was a single room, with bench seats lining the long sides, a narrow table running down the center, and doors at either end. Propelling his suitcase into the luggage rack above the seats, Ezekiel sat down in the corner, propped his feet onto the table, and fell asleep.

* * *

"What's _he_ doing here?"

"How should I know? Maybe he's trying to eavesdrop."

"If that's the case, he's not very good at it."

"I dunno, Alex, he can get away with a lot of stuff..."

"Well I'm kicking him out." Some footsteps approached Ezekiel, which he ignored. Someone poked him in the face, which he opened his eyes at. "Get out, Bohr. This is the Prefect's car."

"Yes, and I'm Head Boy, so I'll be staying, thank you," he said to the girl with wavy reddish-brown hair and angry grey eyes.

"You? Head Boy?" She threw back her head and laughed dramatically. "That's funny. Now get out."

Ezekiel smiled to annoy her and waved his wand (again, for effect). His suitcase unzipped and his badge fell down into his hands. "See? Proof."

"You could have easily just conjured a fake one," the girl replied. "I know the kind of magic you can do."

"No, you really don't," Ezekiel said, still smiling. "But if you still don't believe me then go find McGonagall, she'll vouch for me."

"Fine. Best prepare your stuff," she said, smirking, and left the car. Ezekiel closed his eyes and pretended to fall back asleep.

A couple minutes later, the girl's distinctive steps stormed back into the car. "I can't believe it. He _is_ Head Boy."

A chorus of exclamations followed.

"I just asked McGonagall. She said that Dumbledore chose him specifically."

"Why?" asked a voice that Ezekiel recognized as Erica Clearwater.

"I don't know, ask _him_."

"No way, he scares me," Clearwater replied. That nearly made Ezekiel laugh. _In the __immortal__ words of Machiavelli, 'It is far safer to be feared than loved if you cannot be both.'_

"Well I'm not asking him. Let's just let him sleep through the meeting." _That would be nice._

* * *

"Wake up," she said, kicking him in the shin.

"I thought you were going to let me sleep through the meeting," Ezekiel objected, opening his eyes and sitting up. He looked around the car, which was now filled with Prefects, all of them watching him.

"Unfortunately, your participation is required. Let's just get this over with quickly."

"Fine, fine," Ezekiel groaned dramatically, pushing himself off of the seat. "Which of you idiots is best at making coffee?"

She punched him in the shoulder. "That's _completely_ uncalled for, Bohr. And _I_ am running this meeting, not you."

Ezekiel smiled sardonically. "Lead on, Tempest."

The girl glared at him, then positioned herself at the head of the table, addressing the entire car. "Most of you should already know this, but I'm Alex Tempest, and I've been chosen as Head Girl this year. Professor McGonagall has asked that I start by reviewing the security arrangements for the Prefects, and she'll join us later to assign other duties."

Tempest continued on in much the same way, with Ezekiel lurking behind her. _Just bear through this, and then you can convince Dumbledore to let you resign,_ he brooded. _To resist at this point would be immature and futile._

Looking over the batch of new Prefects, he was glad he wouldn't have to deal with them for more than today. Most of them were watching Tempest with an avid attention that did not spell good things for their actual intelligence. Some of them were simply watching the scenery fly by outside, not paying any attention at all.

The only one that piqued Ezekiel's interest was Karl Mueller, who was watching Tempest with a calculating look. He was a Slytherin – a true Slytherin, Ezekiel could tell, not the thick-skulled idiots that usually fell into Slytherin – and that said something. Ezekiel watched him closely, noticing the slight nods he gave when he agreed with something that Tempest said, and the barely perceptible frowns when he didn't. A quick run-over of his emotions had similar results – he was taking in everything around him and processing it calmly. _Note to self: keep an eye on him._

Tempest's spiel ended abruptly when McGonagall came in from the front. "Hello, Prefects, I'm here to hand out duty assignments for the first semester. Miss Tempest, please hand these out to the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, Mr. Bohr, if you will take the Ravenclaws and Slytherins, please," she said, handing Ezekiel a bundle of twelve rolled-up parchments. In a matter of minutes he had tossed the parchments to their respective owners, and unrolled his own.

"There, everyone has their assignments," McGonagall said. "If you have any questions, Miss Tempest is familiar with the scheduling system."

"Wait, Professor, what about —"

"Mr. Bohr, please come with me." McGonagall opened the sliding door into the tiny hallway. With a single incantation, she cast a Quieting Charm around the two of them. Ezekiel surreptitiously added a few of his own, just in case.

"Now, Mr. Bohr, I know you're not enthusiastic about this position, and frankly, neither am I."

"I appreciate it, Professor."

"Don't get smart with me, Mr. Bohr. Face it, you have no experience as a Prefect, and, as far as I know, you've never taken any sort of initiative or responsibility at Hogwarts to date."

Ezekiel couldn't argue with that, so he kept silent.

"However, the Headmaster insisted that you take this position, and I am rather certain I know why."

"Why is that?" Ezekiel asked, feigning disinterest.

"This is not the time or place to discuss it, Mr. Bohr. Just be aware that Dumbledore knows the extent of your abilities, and he fully believes that you will protect your fellow students if that becomes necessary. Be wary of anyone you meet before you see the Headmaster later tonight. Until then, please just be agreeable about your position. That's all I ask of you for now, Mr. Bohr."

Ezekiel hadn't missed the 'for now.' "Don't worry, Professor. I'll be a good boy."

She smiled. "I'm glad to hear that."

* * *

14:26 GMT

7 September, 1984

* * *

"Swish and flick, yes, just like that, Miss Wynne. And make sure you pronounce it correctly, it's a _very_ fiddly spell, and I don't want any explosions this semester."

Ezekiel was watching Professor Flitwick perform the spell from the back of the room, noticing the patterns and flow of the spell through the Fabric. Flitwick wasn't exaggerating – it was an extremely complex spell for first years. It looked nearly as intricate as the spells that the nurses had used to talk to him in his room from miles away.

"Mr. Bohr? Please start practicing on your own feather," Flitwick called across the room.

Gripping the wand that was so unfamiliar, Ezekiel swished and flicked, and said, "_Wingardium Leviosa._" The feather didn't budge. "_Wingardium Leviosa._" It twitched a bit, that time.

_The nurses said I wasn't to show my abilities to anyone at Hogwarts,_ he thought to himself. But, glancing furtively around, no one was paying any attention to the lonely Ravenclaw in the corner. _I saw how the spell was done,_ he reasoned, _and this stupid wand is worse than useless._

Holding the image of the spell Flitwick had performed in his head, he began to build it from scratch, twisting and bending the Fabric just right, just the way needed to connect the feather to his wand, so that he could lift it with only a small movement of his wrist. The threads and rings of the spell were braided out carefully, one by one, slowly coming together from the Fabric around him. Each thread twisted along the side of another, and there were junctions where two threads became one, or one became two. A matrix of connections spread out before Ezekiel's eyes, and the final thread bound the two endpoints to each other, so that the entire spell folded in upon itself and became complete. He touched the movement end of the spell to the feather, and they bound together, golden magic flowing along the fibers of its delicate shape. Then he pulled the control end to the tip of his wand. As soon as he did it, he realized his mistake.

The wand chooses the wizard, as they say, but Ezekiel had never needed a wand to begin with. The wand he held was simply the one that had gotten along with him most, the most accommodating that Ollivander had owned, so that he could maintain an illusion of normalcy at school. Were wands sentient, it might be said that this one had not yet warmed to its owner, which had not warmed to it either. When the magic of mind and wand touched, they rejected each other instantly.

Ezekiel's beautiful spell exploded, sending a ripple of magical power through the room that instantly dissolved the other spells. But no one except Flitwick noticed, because half a second later, Ezekiel's wand exploded. The inherent magic of the device went supernova in an instant, blasting magic throughout the room so powerfully that even the other kids could feel it. Every feather in the room caught fire, some of the chairs dissolved into dust, the window closest to Ezekiel turned to water, and every torch in the room burned brilliant fuchsia. The small wooden rod that had formerly been a wand shot out of Ezekiel's hand and was consumed in a fireball, followed by a concussion that reverberated through the stone of the third-floor classroom.

The class fell silent as the ashes and dust settled gently. Everyone was watching Ezekiel, who was motionless in his seat, ignoring the half-disintegrated remains of his right sleeve, the one on his wand arm. His eyes were fixed on the pristine feather before him.

As if he had teleported, Flitwick was at Ezekiel's table in a heartbeat. His wand touched the back of Ezekiel's neck and he muttered, "_Perlustrius._" Nothing, as far as Ezekiel could tell, had happened, but Flitwick nodded to himself, apparently satisfied.

"Mr. Bohr," he said, somehow sounding utterly terrifying to Ezekiel despite his squeaky voice. "Please come with me."

Standing up uncertainly, Ezekiel asked, "Where —?"

"We're going to see the Headmaster."


	3. Dumbledore, and Flitwick

21:47 GMT

3 September, 1990

* * *

The ride in the carriages was miserable, as usual. Ezekiel was with other Ravenclaws, which helped, but they were simply incapable of being quiet. He could have Apparated – he had unraveled the (ridiculously simplistic) wards preventing Apparition between two points on the grounds in his third year – but he didn't want to raise suspicion, and McGonagall's words were particularly ominous.

"Hey, uh, congratulations on getting Head Boy, Ezekiel," said Janice Arol, a fellow Ravenclaw with short black hair and wide green eyes.

Ezekiel made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat.

"Aren't you glad? It's a pretty big privilege," she pressed, smiling at him.

"Babysitting the entirety of Hogwarts? You're right, that sounds _fantastic_."

"Oh. Um, okay."

Ezekiel went back to staring out the tiny window. Janice did too, looking a tiny bit hurt.

* * *

If there was one thing Ezekiel disliked about being in Ravenclaw, it was the position of their table in the Great Hall. It was in the middle of the Hall, so no matter where he sat, he always had his back to either the Slytherins, or the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, and he could never decide which was worse. Eating there when it was full of people was a nightmare.

The Sorting provided some fleeting entertainment, as always. One by one, the first years went to sit under the Hat. And one by one, Ezekiel watched their emotions flare and settle and fluctuate as the Hat talked to them, telling each of them a bit of wisdom that it always seemed to know.

But, as usual, Ezekiel couldn't read the Hat at all. He assumed that the Hat probably wasn't sentient (since he could read the emotions of non-human sentient creatures, like the goblins at Gringotts), but the unsolved mystery teased him every year.

When the last boy was Sorted, the Hat was taken away, and Dumbledore said something ridiculous as usual. Then he seated himself, and the tables were suddenly filled with food.

* * *

When the food was finished and swept away by magic, Dumbledore stood once more.

"To our first-years, welcome to Hogwarts! To everyone else, welcome back! There are a few things that I should say before you all run off to bed," he said, opening his arms in a sign of welcome and smiling in a merry sort of way.

"Just like every other year, I must remind you all that the Forbidden Forest is completely off-limits, to all students. Secondly, I have been asked by our caretaker, Mr. Filch, to remind you that no magic is to be used in the corridors at any time, and he urges you to consult the list on his office door detailing the items which are not permitted within Hogwarts.

"Finally," he said, "I would like to introduce our newest staff member, who will be taking the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Please do all that you can to make Professor Lorbechev feel welcome here at Hogwarts." He gestured to his left, at the woman sitting at the very far end of the table.

As soon as Ezekiel saw her, he knew something was wrong. The flow of magic bent around her in an odd way, a way that Ezekiel _definitely_ should have noticed from a mile away, but somehow she had slipped under his radar. Now that he was watching her, he could tell that she was very powerful. The Fabric seemed to bend around her, distorting in a weird sort of way that didn't have any magical traces about it at all. _This is the reason I've been forced into this position,_ he knew. _She's dangerous._

Her physical appearance was not one of power, however. She was extremely thin, with protruding bones and veins that seemed to pop out of her skin. Two cold, grey eyes gleamed out of sunken eye sockets, and her hair was pitch black, drawn into a tight bun at the back of her head. When the Headmaster addressed her, she merely nodded at him, again to the students as a whole, then crossed her arms and gazed up at the ceiling.

"Well, I won't keep you any longer," Dumbledore said. "Off to bed with you! Fifth-year prefects, please guide the first-years to their dormitories."

The general din of the Great Hall rose again as hundreds of students left their tables, talking and shouting, trying to squeeze their way out of the Hall.

Suppressing his agoraphobia, Ezekiel slipped out and headed for the secret passage just past Classroom Eleven. A tight spiral staircase there would lead him up to the fifth floor, and from there he could easily get to the Headmaster's office without anyone noticing.

"Mr. Bohr!" a squeaky voice called behind him. He turned and saw Professor Flitwick, rushing towards him.

"Yes, Professor?"

"I was told to give you the message, 'cherry bomb.' I was also told that you would understand it."

"I do," Ezekiel said. _The password to the Headmaster's office._ "Thanks, Professor."

"Of course, Mr. Bohr." Then the little man was gone, off to try to control the mass of students.

Ezekiel looked around the side of the painting's frame until he found the triangular eye symbol that had been written there in red ink for as long as Ezekiel knew. He tapped it with his wand and whispered, "_Frumious Bandersnatch,_" making sure to roll his "R"s perfectly. The mark glowed, then the painting (which was the only still painting that Ezekiel had ever seen in Hogwarts) flashed for the briefest moment, letting the careful observer know that the passage was open. Ezekiel braced himself and stepped into the painting, sinking through the magical canvas as if it were water. On the other side was the narrow staircase that would take him almost directly to the Headmaster's office.

* * *

"Cherry bomb," Ezekiel said to the gargoyle, which animated and hastily jumped out of his way. Ezekiel stepped past it onto the moving spiral staircase that would take him all the way to the top of the Headmaster's Tower, where Dumbledore's office was. At the top, Ezekiel ignored the knocker and struck the door once with his fist.

"Come in."

Opening the door, Ezekiel saw the Headmaster's office for what felt like the hundredth time. It was exactly as he remembered it – perfectly circular, with bookcases lining the northern wall, and the southern wall absolutely covered in the portraits of past Headmasters, except for a single high window just in the middle. Scattered around the room were several assorted tables, which held various bizarre trinkets and devices that squeaked and hummed and exuded pink smoke. Among the portraits was Dumbledore's desk, behind which the old wizard himself sat.

"Ah, Mr. Bohr," he said, as if he hadn't been expecting Ezekiel. "Please, be seated." He gestured to the odd five-legged stool that was sitting in front of his desk.

"You know, this window really is useless," he said while Ezekiel sat. "It faces directly south, so it gets neither the rising nor setting sun. Just a tiny sliver of light coming in from the sides."

"Maybe there was a reason for that when Hogwarts was built," Ezekiel suggested.

"Oh, I doubt it. Hogwarts is completely insane."

"I know that well enough, sir." He had delved many of Hogwarts' mysteries in his time here.

The old man's eyes twinkled. "Yes, I'm sure you do. Now, to business, yes?"

"Professor Lorbechev."

Dumbledore nodded. "Quick as always, Mr. Bohr. She is the reason that you've been pushed into this position." He didn't look apologetic about it at all, but Ezekiel had pretty much expected that.

"Why is her magic so strange? The Fabric bends around her in a way I've never seen before."

"I have no idea," Dumbledore said. "She's a mystery to me, but I have a terrible suspicion that she means us no good will."

"Then why hire her?"

Smiling sadly, Dumbledore replied, "Because the position is cursed, of course, and it's difficult to get anyone to take the job."

Ezekiel was speechless. Dumbledore just smiled benignly at him.

"The position is _actually cursed?_ I thought that was a stupid myth!"

"We do our best to make it sound as ridiculous as possible," Dumbledore said. "As long as there is no admission of certainty, most people will just assume that it is a rumor."

"Who cursed it? And _why?_"

Dumbledore didn't say anything, just smiled.

"Why tell me, then?" Ezekiel asked.

"I thought it would help you to gain some insight into Professor Lorbechev's motives," Dumbledore said. " Or, perhaps, I just like to mess with your head. Either way, I think that you can handle a secret well enough."

Ezekiel reconsidered the situation. "What do I need to do?"

"Your most important job is to _protect your fellow students_. You are more than capable of protecting every student in this school from anything short of a Death Eater invasion, and I hope you'll be motivated to do so."

"How is this boy more capable than _you_, Dumbledore?" one of the portraits, an old, blind witch, asked.

"Because I have duties that keep me busy, Agatha," Dumbledore replied, "and Mr. Bohr is by far my superior in magical ability."

Ezekiel didn't know if that was meant to be a compliment or a simple statement of fact, but it was true, and they both knew it, so he didn't respond to it. "And what about Lorbechev?"

"_Professor_ Lorbechev, Mr. Bohr," Dumbledore corrected. "I suggest you try to find out why she is so strange, and, if you can manage, what she plans to do."

Ezekiel nodded. "Is that all?"

"Ah, not quite." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled mischievously, which was never a good sign. "I understand that Professor McGonagall failed to discuss the private quarters you share with Miss Tempest..."

* * *

14:35 GMT

7 September, 1984

* * *

When Ezekiel entered the strange tower office behind Flitwick, the Headmaster was wearing a frighteningly grave look. At the start-of-term banquet, he had struck Ezekiel as a friendly, albeit weird, sort of person. But this serious look was like a mask, giving him quite another appearance from the kindly old man that had stood before the Great Hall.

"Headmaster, we have a serious situation," Flitwick said as soon as the door was closed.

"I know," the older man rumbled. Ezekiel shivered.

"How —?"

"I could feel it from here," Dumbledore said. "You tried to replicate Professor Flitwick's magic without your wand, Mr. Bohr, am I correct?"

Ezekiel nodded, not trusting himself to speak without his voice wavering.

Flitwick was frowning deeply. "Without a wand... how could a first year...?"

Dumbledore held up a single finger for silence, then waved his wand in a circle above his head three times. Each revolution, Ezekiel saw a glittering sheet of magic spring out of his wand and envelop the room. He could see their structure, and none of them was particularly difficult, but he knew how to learn from his mistakes, and resisted the temptation to commit the spells to memory.

Dumbledore dropped his hands to his desk and said, "Filius, Mr. Bohr here has a very rare gift."

"Uncontrollable magic? That's not a gift, Headmaster."

Smiling slightly, Dumbledore said, "No, you misunderstand. He has Magical Perceptivity and Manipulativity."

There was a moment where Flitwick processed Dumbledore's words, obviously second guessing what he had just heard. Then the implications sunk in, and he squeaked in surprise. He turned to look at Ezekiel with a new understanding.

"Now, Mr. Bohr," Dumbledore said, "please explain what happened."

"I hate that wand," Ezekiel said. "It didn't feel right, and it was impossible to use. So I copied Professor Flitwick's spell when he cast it, and did it without a wand."

"And you failed to create it properly?" Flitwick interjected. "That's not surprising, it's a terribly touchy spell —"

"No, I made it right. But my mind's magic rejected my wand's magic when I tried to connect the spell to my wand."

Flitwick and Dumbledore nodded in unison. "I should have realized," Flitwick said, "it was a textbook case of magical rejection."

"So I think I'll try connecting it to my finger or something next time I try," Ezekiel said.

"_No!_"

Both Flitwick and Dumbledore were looking at him as if he were crazy. "No, no, Mr. Bohr," Dumbledore said. "You must not attempt magic like that again. You could seriously hurt your fellow students."

"But if I try again I'm sure I can —"

"No," Flitwick said. "The Headmaster is right, magic is extremely dangerous in its raw form."

"Then what should I do if I can't use magic?"

"Learn to use your wand," Dumbledore suggested. "It may seem a handicap now, but a wand's magic combined with the mind's magic can be very potent indeed."

"But, I don't have a wand anymore."

"You don't?"

"It exploded," Flitwick explained. "When the magics rejected each other."

"Ah, well then, I'll organize a trip to Diagon Alley for you to get a new one," Dumbledore said. "But in the meantime, you may use this spare one." He handed Ezekiel a short, dark-wooded wand that felt absolutely vile in his hand.

"Do I have to?"

"Yes. Now, you must get back to your classes. Filius, if you would show him back."

"He knows his way around," Flitwick said. "I must discuss some matters of _security_ with you, Headmaster."

Dumbledore smiled very slightly. "Very well. Farewell, Mr. Bohr."

Ezekiel turned to leave, but noticed something before he opened the door. "Uh, Headmaster? Your protective spells are still there."

"Ah, of course." He waved his wand once, and the blankets of magic dissolved. "Off you go."

When Ezekiel left, he could have sworn he heard Flitwick muttering darkly under his breath about dangerous students and security hazards.


	4. Garret, and Benjamin

22:54 GMT

3 September, 1990

* * *

Ezekiel had noticed over the years that Hogwarts had bizarre acoustics. There were some areas of the castle where he could clearly hear people talking two floors down. Then there were other areas, like the new quarters where he was reading, where you couldn't hear anything unless someone was right outside the statue that made for a door. It was possible that this was to provide some solitude for the Head Boy and Girl, but knowing Hogwarts, it probably was just to mess with them – for all he knew, he'd be able to hear a spider scratching in the basement next Tuesday.

"Come on, Garret, don't be a wuss."

"But I don't think I'm allowed —"

"It's _my_ room, I can invite whoever I like in." Ezekiel heard Tempest tap the statue with her wand, but she kept the incantation silent. _This girl has _some_ presence of mind, at least._

"But you share it with Bohr, don't you?"

"Well yeah, but that doesn't matter."

The statue at the edge of the room split apart and rotated inwards, like double doors. When it was open like that, one could see that the exact same statue was on both sides of the wall.

Acting on impulse, Ezekiel immediately conjured a quick barrier at the door that would let Tempest through, but not her companion.

"Oh, hello Bohr," she said when she walked effortlessly through. "I _hope_ you don't mind, but I've brought Garret —"

"Hey! Why can't I come in?" the muscular, sandy-haired boy outside the door asked.

Tempest's face fell. "I guess the room has wards on it."

"Oh, well, I guess I'll —"

A calculated chuckle escaped Ezekiel. Tempest whirled on him instantly. "_You_ did this!"

Ezekiel smiled and looked up from his book. "These are _private_ quarters."

"They are private quarters which belong to _both of us_ and _I_ want to bring Garret in here."

"To do what? Study?"

Tempest's face reddened, but she stood her ground. "_Let him in._"

"No."

"_Bohr I swear to Merlin —_"

"It's okay, Alex," Garret said, his face also inflamed. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Tempest sighed, defeated. "Fine," she mumbled. "See you, Garret."

Garret walked off, and the door closed itself. Ezekiel let the barrier down as soon as the stone settled into its seamless join.

"That was _completely_ juvenile, Bohr."

"Bite me." Ezekiel winced inwardly as soon as it escaped his mouth. That was even _more_ juvenile. But he had completely forgotten about the private quarters until just an hour earlier, and he was being forced to live here with _Tempest of all people_, so he had an excuse to be childish for at least tonight.

"I can't believe I have to _live here_ with _you_ for the entire year," she said, collapsing into the sofa.

"It's like you read my mind."

"You're an insufferable jackass."

Ezekiel ignored her, and she eventually left for her room without a word.

* * *

12:06 GMT

16 September, 1984

* * *

The first Quidditch match of the year was about to begin, and despite himself, Ezekiel was interested. The only things he had heard of the sport were very poor descriptions from some of the boys in his dorm, but they assured him that it was more interesting than they made it sound. And so, although there was an entire library of books on magic to read, Ezekiel found himself in the Entrance Hall, on his way down the the Quidditch pitch across the grounds.

"Hey, you! Bohr!"

Ezekiel turned at the voice and saw a Gryffindor boy from his year standing at the bottom of the marble staircase, shouting across the Hall so everyone could hear.

"Yeah?"

"You," the boy paused for dramatic effect, "are a menace to Hogwarts."

"Am I?"

"I saw what happened in Charms! There's no way a normal person can do stuff like that." People around were stopping to watch. It wouldn't be long before everyone knew what had happened in that classroom. "You're a danger to all of us, and I, Benjamin Tempest, shall _end you!_"

Resisting the temptation to roll his eyes, Ezekiel said, "Good luck with that." Then he turned and continued on his way.

"_Flipendo!_" The spell caught Ezekiel unawares, in the small of the back. Benjamin wasn't a very strong spellcaster, barely pushing Ezekiel forward, but it still hurt, and _no one_ had ever attacked him before_._

Anger flamed up in Ezekiel, overriding all senses of caution. He turned and advanced on Benjamin, leaving the useless wand in his pocket. A flash of fear entered Benjamin's eyes, but he stood his ground like a Gryffindor, and fired another spell at Ezekiel.

With barely a thought, Ezekiel caught the spell in midair and unraveled it, dispersing the magic. Starting to panic, Benjamin threw more spells at him, but even when he put all of his force behind the strongest spell he knew – _Reducto_ – Ezekiel batted it away without a thought, still advancing on him with a look of burning fury in his eyes.

When Ezekiel was within reach he swatted the wand out of Benjamin's hands and grabbed a fistful of the boy's robes. Despite his fear, the boy faced his opponent defiantly. Ezekiel drew his fist back and punched the Gryffindor as hard as he could across the face. Realizing that his strongest wasn't very strong, Ezekiel put some magical force into the next punch.

There was a sickening crunch as Benjamin's jaw cracked, and he was launched off of his feet in a shower of magical sparks. He landed hard on the marble stairs, sinking in a pitiful heap at Ezekiel's feet. A slow drip of blood leaked out of the corner of his mouth, followed by a raspy breath and several hoarse coughs.

The anger passed as quickly as it had come, leaving cold fear in its place. Ezekiel was left looking down at the broken Gryffindor at his feet, the implications of his actions starting to dawn on him. _What have I..._

He backed up one step, turned around, and came face-to-face with Professor McGonagall, giving him a look that would have quelled a mountain troll. Ezekiel's heart dropped into his stomach.

"Come with me, Mr. Bohr." It didn't even occur to Ezekiel to disobey.

* * *

"Thank you, Minerva." The austere Gryffindor professor left the office as soon as she received her dismissal.

"So, Mr. Bohr," Dumbledore said, looking down at Ezekiel over his spectacles. "Barely a week later, you are in my office once more."

Ezekiel wasn't supposed to feel emotion. Emotion was dangerous. Despite the sick fear brewing inside him, Ezekiel looked up at Dumbledore impassively.

"I should hope that you grasp the gravity of the situation in which you are in, Mr. Bohr. You have attacked and seriously injured another student of Hogwarts."

"He attacked me first!"

"Yes, he did, and he will be punished for his actions as well. But we here at Hogwarts try to teach students to turn the other cheek when such assailants harass them - especially when it is such a weak attack." Dumbledore gave him a very serious look. "You retaliated with an unprecedented amount of force – and with a considerable amount of help from your own special powers. Violence of any kind is not tolerated at Hogwarts, and what you did to your fellow student is unforgivable."

Ezekiel swallowed the hundreds of protests, and asked, "What's my punishment?"

"Professor McGonagall rather believes that you deserve three months of detention. However, I believe that you will have properly rehabilitated after one month. After this punishment, can I count on you to not attack another student in my school again?"

"I will not willingly attack another student again," Ezekiel said, his mouth dry.

"Thank you, Mr. Bohr. Now, if you will —"

"I wasn't in control of myself," Ezekiel interjected, feeling it was important to tell the Headmaster this. "I can't guarantee I won't do it again."

Dumbledore regarded him carefully for a moment. "Thank you for telling me this, Ezekiel. I can only ask that you try to control yourself in the future, for your sake, and that of your fellow students."

Ezekiel nodded dumbly, then stood from the stool and nearly sprinted for the door.


	5. Reconnaissance, and a Boggart

9:30 GMT

6 September, 1990

* * *

Professor Lorbechev stalked into the room with her thin, pointed chin held high. The entire class watched silently from their desks while she made her way to the front of the classroom, an aura of danger spreading in her wake.

Positioned in his usual back-of-the-room seat, Ezekiel locked his eyes on her back, watching her magic as she walked by. There was something different in the way that the Fabric bent around her, no doubt about it. As he watched, he began to perceive an invisible sphere at her core, which heavily distorted the Fabric near her. But at that center point, there was nothing. No spellwork that Ezekiel could see, not even Fabric. Just emptiness.

Leaning back in his chair, he began to think through his options. Observation, obviously, was probably not enough. Dumbledore had hired her and overseen her assimilation into Hogwarts, and if she hadn't slipped up her guise around him, then Ezekiel was sure she wouldn't do it in front of a class of seventh-years. The only reliable option that he could think of would be to provoke her into doing something. _The best method would be to get some other student to hit her with a spell from behind,_ Ezekiel thought, _thus ensuring my disguise is maintained._ He nodded slightly, the only expression of the satisfaction he felt at having already come up with a safe, workable plan.

_No... wait. If she's dangerous, she may harm the student..._ Ezekiel sighed. _Looks like I have to do this one on my own._

"Now then," Lorbechev called, her voice surprisingly normal and free of the Dracula accent that Ezekiel had somewhat expected. "I understand that the teaching of your Defense Against the Dark Arts course has been very... different. You have been taught many things about different magical creatures, dormant enchantments, and any number of traps. You have even been taught, to a certain extent, how to duel against another wizard or witch.

"However, this is not enough. Knowing how to shoot spells at someone will do you _absolutely_ no good if you are stuck in a bad situation. Therefore, this year will be dedicated to learning about spells – every single defensive or offensive combat spell, and everything about every one of them. This is _essential_ for your ability as functioning wizards and witches."

The idea piqued Ezekiel's interest. He knew plenty of spells from his readings, but he wouldn't put it past this woman to have a few more obscure ones to teach them.

"Now, please open your books to page 7 and begin reading the introductory chapter."

A flame of outrage blossomed in the pit of Ezekiel's core. _Another theory class? Shouldn't someone have _realized_ that these didn't do any good?_ Then, an idea struck Ezekiel in a stroke of brilliance. This was the perfect chance to observe Lorbechev properly.

"A theory class?" he said out loud, making sure she could hear him. "We've had three of these already, you know. Each as useless as the last."

A tensee silence greeted his words. Lorbechev was watching him with an impassive face. "This is the most effective method to properly teach you what you need to know."

"No, it's not," Ezekiel retorted. "The most effective method is demonstration and practice."

The rest of the class was watching him with poorly repressed shock and, in some cases, awe. Some of them had probably never heard him speak before.

"Ten points from Ravenclaw," Lorbechev said. "Do not question my teaching methods. I know this subject matter better than you."

"Perhaps, but you don't demonstrate any ability in _teaching_ it. Books are only useful as a supplement to proper learning." Tempest, up in the third row, gasped audibly.

Lorbechev's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Detention, young Ravenclaw. Tomorrow night, at seven o'clock."

_Success._ Ezekiel said nothing, only glared sullenly at her as if he were defeated. _Let her think she's won this one._ But the only emotion he saw on her face was something uncertain, as if she could not quite see him properly. A strange uneasiness was emanating from her mind.

"Now, if there are no more objections, please continue reading the introduction."

Ezekiel looked down to the long introductory passage. It was one of the duller things he had read, and he was pretty sure some parts of it were plagiarized from several other books in the Library. As he was working his way through, Lorbechev slowly stalked down the aisles of the desks, approaching him in his peripheral vision. His attention for the book wavered and refocused on her, tracking her movements carefully.

When she passed him, an alarm, silent to everyone but him, cried out, signaling a breach in the defensive spells on his back. He tensed involuntarily, but barely managed to keep himself from reacting further. Carefully, he constructed a crude scrying spell and with it, looked behind, at where his barriers had alerted him. An invisible distortion in the Fabric had poked him in his outermost barrier, as if it knew it was there. A quick glance confirmed what he had already assumed: the person who could see his barriers, and the one to whom the strange magical probe was attached was Professor Lorbechev, standing hunched behind him, watching his back with a malicious eye.

* * *

15:10 GMT

18 September, 1984

* * *

"Welcome to, ah, your first practical lesson in, ah, Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Ezekiel was in the corner, as usual, but the classroom was totally different today. All of the desks had disappeared, and the only thing left in the middle of the room was a single trunk, which was closed and latched. Somehow, it looked absolutely ominous.

Lined up against the wall were the first years, and Professor Ghynt, their bulbous Defense teacher, was standing by the window, looking the students over with his beady eyes.

"This particular specimen was discovered in one of the storage rooms in the dungeons," Ghynt said. "Can anyone, ah, tell me what it may be?"

No one answered. Options raced through Ezekiel's mind, but the only one even worth considering was a man-eating trunk.

"Not one of you? Pity." Ghynt didn't look disappointed at all, instead, he only looked smug. "I have procured for you today, ah, what is known as a Boggart."

That provoked a few gasps, and the other students started to look fearful.

"Some of you may be wondering what a Boggart is. Well, ah, it is a creature who prefers dark, enclosed spaces, and will defend them with it's only, ah, weapon – transforming into that which its assailant most fears."

The students who hadn't caught on at first were now getting pretty nervous, but Ezekiel felt relieved. He couldn't think of anything that he was afraid of, so what could happen if he went up against the Boggart?

"You there," Ghynt pointed at a random student in the line. "You will be the first to face the Boggart."

The girl he had pointed to, a timid Slytherin, stepped uncertainly forward, looking very pale. "How do I fight it?"

"Oh yes," Ghynt said, his chins wobbling dangerously. "The way to, ah, combat a Boggart is to, ah, eliminate the fear. There is a charm called _Riddikulus_ which you may use to transform the Boggart into something, ah, amusing." The girl nodded, then stepped forward to the trunk. With a wave of his wand, Ghynt unlocked it, and it sprang open.

Nothing happened for a fraction of a second, and Ezekiel had just started to think that maybe this was a ridiculous joke when an Acromantula the size of a school bus burst out of the trunk, clicking its pincers angrily. The girl fell backwards from fright, hitting her elbow against the stone floor while the monster snarled at her from above. Desperately she waved her wand, screaming, "_Riddikulus!_" The spider didn't seem to have noticed the spell that bounced off its underbelly, it only bent down to look over its prey.

"_Riddikulus! Riddikulus!_" She pushed herself back against the wall, where the other students had parted to get away from the giant spider. Pressed against the stone with the massive arthropod bearing down on her, she launched spell after spell against it, but not even _Incendio_ had an effect.

"Only _Riddikulus_ will work against a Boggart!" Ghynt called, seeming quite unconcerned about the situation. "You must visualize something _funny!_ Only then will the charm work!"

The girl took a deep breath to regain her composure, concentrated for a second, then yelled, "_Riddikulus!_" The Acromantula turned bright pink, and began to emit a whimsical honking noise whenever it tried to hiss at her. A breathy laugh escaped the girl's mouth, and the spider disappeared, turning to a black smoke that slunk back into the trunk and pulled the lid closed.

"Well, not bad, ah, not bad," Ghynt said. "Now, ah, who's next?"

Silence greeted his words. Most of the students were still shaken from the Acromantula.

"Mr. Bohr, you look, ah, rather confident over there," Ghynt called to the end of the classroom where Ezekiel was. "Why don't you give it a try?"

Ezekiel looked inward again while he walked slowly towards the trunk. Did he really fear anything? Surely he had to fear something, _everyone_ has fears, even the most hotheaded of Gryffindors. _I'm feeling fear now,_ he thought. _Does that mean I fear confronting a fear that I don't know I have? How could that even be _visualized_?_

Looking behind him, he noticed that the students had backed even farther away, into the corners. _I guess if they fear me, then they _really_ fear what I'm afraid of._

Ghynt waved his wand, and the trunk sprang open again. Ezekiel flinched away, shutting his eyes tightly against the horrors that he knew must spring from the back of his mind...

Nothing happened.

Five seconds later, Ezekiel opened his eyes. There was nothing in front of him. He stepped closer, looked inside the trunk, but there was nothing there. A moment passed where he was only confused, wondering what could possibly be going on.

Then he was dealt a staggering mental blow that felt like a punch directly to his brain, overwhelming his senses. He felt for a brief moment like he was falling away from his body, his motor controls slipping from his mental grasp, his sense blurring into one...

Then, another kick, as if he had landed, hard, on a stone floor. His senses slowly separated themselves, his sight refocusing, the angry buzzing in his ears receding.

He was still standing in front of the trunk. He was still looking down into it. But he couldn't move, he couldn't move a single part of his body, he could only see the room, hear the murmur of the students behind him, feel the warmth of the sun, smell the mustiness of old textbooks, taste the blood in his mouth.

"Is that it?" a student behind him called out. "What's going on here?"

Ezekiel's body moved of its own accord. With a single, magically enhanced bound, he was face-to-face with his fellow Ravenclaw. The magic and vitality poured off of the boy in sheets, and Ezekiel drank it in, let it overwhelm his mind. A demonic grin cracked his face.

"I'd like to see something," Ezekiel said, watching the boy hungrily.

"W-what are you doing?"

"I bet your insides are fascinating... Can I take a look...?" A bizarre giggle escaped Ezekiel's lips.

"Let go of me!"

Ezekiel lifted his finger, and drew a straight line down the boy's torso. Where his fingertip touched, a shining silver light followed, leaving a glowing trail. The Ravenclaw gasped with pain. "I could cut right here," Ezekiel said. "Then you'll come right apart..."

"Leave him alone!"

Ezekiel's head turned slowly, very slowly. Standing slightly forward of the rest of the students was a blonde Hufflepuff, who was regarding him with bravado and an evident fear.

"You can be next, you know," Ezekiel said. "Just wait your turn."

"What the hell are you talking about? Let go of him!"

Ezekiel's eyes narrowed. "Be quiet." With a single flourish of his wand and a silent spell that he didn't know he knew, the boy was engulfed in a burst of flames, catching onto his robes and hair. He fell to the ground, screaming, while the other students only watched, horrified.

"Now," Ezekiel whispered, "where were we...?"

"Mr. Bohr! Stop this, ah, at once! You may not harm your fellow, ah, students!"

Ezekiel's arms pushed the Ravenclaw away, and his legs staggered uncertainly towards the corpulent professor. His right hand pointed the wand shakily at Professor Ghynt. "You," Ezekiel said, breaths coming painfully in his lungs. "You think you can teach us? You think that you are _better_ than us?"

"I'm a professor! I am more experienced, ah, _and_ more qualified —"

A terrifying cry erupted from Ezekiel's mouth, and he slashed his wand down, tearing a gash in the professor's chest. Blood spurted out, spraying over Ezekiel's face. "You are _useless!_"

Ghynt staggered, falling against the bookcase to support himself. "Y-you attacked me!"

"_Shut up!_" Ezekiel slashed again, and another spray of blood decorated his robes. The professor sank to the ground, gasping and bleeding profusely.

"_Die!_" The blood gushed even thicker, forming a shallow puddle around Ezekiel. Ghynt waved his wand feebly, gasping, "_Auxilius!_"

A sound like a thousand firecrackers filled the room instantly, and a silent spell struck Ezekiel in the small of the back, overwhelming Ezekiel's senses with white noise before he fell unconscious. Behind him, grasping the tail of a fiery red-and-gold bird in one hand and wielding a wand in the other, wearing a dangerous, livid face, was Albus Dumbledore.

* * *

The grand double doors at the head of the hospital wing burst open with a crash, allowing a flustered witch to rush in, her usually tight bun completely askew.

"Albus! What in the _world_ has _happened?_ I have heard some of the most incredible stories —"

"A terrible, terrible accident, Minerva," Dumbledore replied. "I have gravely underestimated the danger in young Ezekiel's presence." He glanced over to where the boy was sleeping, tangled among the sheets in the light from the tall windows. His face was impassive in sleep, innocent, even.

"Who is _responsible?_"

"I believe it is partly my fault for allowing his power to go unattended," Dumbledore said, "And perhaps some blame lies with our own Professor Ghynt, who so foolishly allowed first-years to confront a Boggart."

McGonagall's breathing was starting to slow. She looked over to where Dumbledore had pointed, where the mountainous Professor lay sedated, bandages criss-crossing his large torso.

"I heard that other students were also injured _—_"

"They will be fine. Mr. Coryton will have a faint scar for most of his life, but he is in good health and has already been released."

"Then who is that?" She pointed to the bed surrounded by curtains, where Madam Pomfrey was at her work.

"Mr. Belmont, too, will make a full recovery. Unfortunately, he will most likely stay in this wing for several weeks."

McGonagall sat down on the foot of the nearest bed, cradling her head in her hands. "I don't understand, Albus. How could a _Boggart_ have induced so much destruction?"

"The Boggart takes the form of that which we most fear," Dumbledore said. "But what fears could Mr. Bohr possibly have? He feels next to no emotion, he has no loved ones to fear for, and he is so powerful that any magical creature would be but child's play to him. So what form could his Boggart possibly take?"

McGonagall pondered the question. Finally, shaking her head, she admitted, "I don't know."

With the gravest look McGonagall had seen on his face since the day he had defeated Grindelwald, Dumbledore said, "Insanity."


	6. Weakness, and Control

18:59 GMT

7 September, 1990

* * *

"Bohr."

Ezekiel turned from his early breakfast to see Karl standing behind him, looking grave. "Yes?"

Karl sat down beside Ezekiel uninvited. "I heard you managed to get a detention with Lorbechev already."

"That's true," Ezekiel said. "Is it so unusual to get detention in the first week?"

"It is, actually. Especially since I've also heard that it's punishment for an outburst against a teacher, in the middle of the class."

"So?"

"It doesn't seem like you."

Ezekiel shrugged. "Maybe I was having a bad day."

"Or maybe you were trying to get detention deliberately."

"Why would I do something like that?"

"I can think of two reasons," Karl said. "One, you don't want the Head Boy job, and you're trying to convince Dumbledore that you don't deserve it. That one seemed likely to me, until I remembered that students can refuse the job if they want. Two, you want a chance to get close to Lorbechev, which could be for any number of reasons."

Ezekiel was impressed, but he kept his face expressionless, and said nothing.

"I can help," Karl said. "I have connections, I have ability, and most importantly, I've kept more-or-less under the radar during my time here at Hogwarts."

"Yet you're a Prefect this year," Ezekiel interjected. "That doesn't seem so under-the-radar."

Karl chuckled dryly. "Dumbledore keeps close watch on everyone, whether they know it or not. If it hadn't been for you being Head Boy, I think he might have ruined me."

"You're welcome."

"You're avoiding the subject. _I can help._"

"Why?" Ezekiel asked. "What reason would you have to help me? How would it benefit you?"

"I can think of plenty of reasons to associate myself with you."

"Such as?"

"Such as having a connection to someone with extraordinary magical power."

"So you want a favor in return."

"More along the lines of wanting to become more powerful."

"Still a favor."

"Yes."

Ezekiel laughed at that. "You can't actually be honest with me." He could see it, too, right there in Karl's head. He was being totally honest.

"How do you know that's not a cover story that disguises what I really want?"

"It's not."

"How can you tell?"

Ezekiel only smiled enigmatically. Sighing, Karl stood up from the bench. "Well, I know when to give up. Just let me know if you change your mind."

Ezekiel didn't respond, but he watched Karl's receding back, now convinced that he had chosen the right Prefect to keep an eye on.

* * *

Being late at night in a generally-deserted part of the castle, Ezekiel hadn't expected to see anyone, which is why he was surprised when he ran straight into the Ravenclaw girl who was walking in the other direction.

"Oh, uh, sorry," Ezekiel said, glancing down to see Janice's green eyes looking up at him.

"Ezekiel! What are you doing here?"

Ezekiel stepped back a pace. "Detention."

"Oh, that's right..."

"Why are you here? There isn't much of anything in this part of the castle."

"Just, uh, wandering around, you know. Well, I hope she isn't too terrible to you," she said, smiling brightly

"We'll see."

"Good luck!" Then she was gone down the hallway.

* * *

"Come in."

Ezekiel opened the black-painted door slowly, noting that it swung open without a hint of a squeak. The room beyond was clean, orderly, and totally uninteresting. It almost looked like no one used it. _That could mean a number of things,_ Ezekiel thought. _Either she __doesn't like personal effects, doesn't want to draw attention to herself, or she's not planning to stay long._

"Ah, Mr. Bohr. Please, have a seat."

Ezekiel sat, looking Lorbechev in the eye. "What will I be doing as punishment?"

"Nothing too exciting, I'm afraid. Just some lines." She indicated the parchment in front of him, her thin lips stretched in a sardonic smile. At the top, she had already written, 'I will not question those who are more qualified than myself.' Ezekiel gritted his teeth, pulled out a pencil, and set to work.

"No quill?" Lorbechev asked.

"Impractical. I prefer pencils."

"Ah, I see."

Prepared for it this time, Ezekiel saw the probe bending its way through the Fabric. When it neared, he pulled his barriers back away from it, letting it poke around in empty space. After a while, it retreated, and Ezekiel let the barriers reform.

"The other teachers tell me that you're an extremely talented, quiet child. So why would you speak up in my class?"

"I don't like theory classes."

"Why? Surely it would be easy for you to just read and memorize for the tests."

"But I would learn better from practical demonstration."

The probe extended itself again. It shot straight for him, intending to set off the barriers before Ezekiel could react, but he pulled them back just in time, letting it pass through empty space once more.

"So you care more about learning than about grades."

"Yes," Ezekiel said, still writing the lines.

Now it was gliding around Ezekiel's body, just barely not touching him, moving very slowly. Ezekiel drew the barriers away as it passed.

"That's unusual for a student."

"I'm not usual."

He took the offensive. Without moving a single part of his body, he struck the probe directly with a blast of invisible magic. The tentacle severed, and the shield that kept Lorbechev's secret hidden was broken for a fraction of a second. Before Ezekiel could process any more than the strong wave of dark magic that emanated from the tiny opening, it had resealed itself, and the cut-off bit of the probe had disintegrated.

"I can see that."

"Really?"

"Not many students would choose to bring Muggle items like a pencil with them to Hogwarts."

"That's true."

Ezekiel withdrew his magic and considered the situation. Both he and Lorbechev were well aware that Dumbledore monitored nearly every part of the school, including this office. If she even hinted at having dangerous, unknown powers, she would be liable for investigation. She had to act like she was nothing more than a teacher, even in front of Ezekiel, even though she knew that he knew, even if he provoked her.

"Taking a break? You have seventy-three more to go," Lorbechev said.

"Oh, no, just zoned out."

"That can be dangerous, you know."

"I'm aware."

As quickly as he could manage, Ezekiel constructed his own probe, making sure that it was invisible to the naked eye. Carefully, he reached it across the table, towards the magic-less sphere at Lorbechev's core. When he touched it, the magic of his probe was sapped away, destroying it in seconds. She made no indication of having noticed at all.

"I'm certain I've heard the name Bohr before," Lorbechev said. "Are your parents well known?"

"Perhaps you're thinking of the Muggle physicist, Niels Bohr."

"No, I don't think so."

Working a little slower now, he pulled together another rough spell, making sure to keep it invisible. With slow, careful mental nudges he fashioned the magical thread into a sort of spear shape, adding extra fibers running its length to reinforce it, and some more that created a strong framework inside the cone's outer layer. A few twists of Fabric formed a rudimentary Piercing Enchantment, which he carefully laid upon the tip of his spear. With a powerful shove that he had difficulty concealing physically, he rammed the spike into Lorbechev's core.

For the barest moment, Ezekiel witnessed what was lying in that ball at her center. A pulse of magic shot down his spear, magic so black and filthy that he recognized it instantly as blood magic. The energy struck him in the gut and a wave of powerful nausea washed over him, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the floor.

"Mr. Bohr? Are you alright?"

"I'm – fine," Ezekiel sputtered between dry retches. "Sorry – I'll clean this up. _Tergeo._"

"Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?"

"I'll be fine," he gasped, wiping vomit from his lips. "I can finish."

"If you insist..."

* * *

It was on his way back to his quarters that Ezekiel came upon his third unanticipated encounter of the night.

"Bohr!" a familiar voice yelled over the hallway, which still had at least a dozen students milling around in it.

"Yes?" Ezekiel turned and saw Garret Belmont, wand drawn and pointed at him.

"What have you and Alex been doing in those private quarters?"

Ezekiel sighed. Every year, this same gossip got passed around about the Head Boy and Girl.

"Nothing. Can I ask you a question in return? Why would you want to make such a matter public? Couldn't we settle this in a deserted classroom or something?"

"Don't change the subject! You two —"

"Why don't you ask _her_ about this instead of _me?_"

"I did, and she said the same thing!"

"Then maybe that _indicates_ something, _non?_"

"It indicates that you two are hiding something from me!"

"Or perhaps both our stories match because they are true?"

Garret growled and shouted, "A duel, Bohr! We'll settle this the proper way." _Ah, I see,_ Ezekiel thought. _This is left-over from first year._

"No."

He paused, taken aback. "What?"

"No. I doubt the teachers would appreciate peeling your corpse off the wall."

"That sounds like a chall—" Garret stopped mid-sentence when Ezekiel's silent stunner hit him in the back of the neck.

Every student in the hallway had stopped what they were doing, and were now staring at the Hufflepuff's limp body in silence.

"You're much more pleasant when you're unconscious," Ezekiel said, then continued on his way.

* * *

16:23 GMT

11 December, 1984

* * *

"There he is."

The voice snapped Ezekiel out of his daydreaming with a jolt. _I thought I'd be left alone over here..._

"Watcha doing hiding behind the greenhouses, Bohr? Afraid of us?"

Ezekiel recognized the Slytherin that was talking — Joshua Velk, a notorious bully who had somehow gotten befriended to the wayward Ben Tempest. It was something of a controversy, the first Gryffindor and Slytherin partners in a very long time.

"Just leave me alone, I haven't done anything to you."

"That doesn't matter, you're still evil," Benjamin said.

"_Evil? _I'm not hurting anyone!"

"You hurt me!"

"You _provoked_ me."

"He barely touched you," Joshua interjected. "And you shattered his jaw."

"Look, I lost control, it's not going to happen again."

"I don't believe you. You _are_ a menace." Ezekiel met Joshua's eyes, and saw only malice. There was nothing of Benjamin's noble superiority in this boy, just sadistic glee.

"Then what are you going to do about it?"

"We're gonna show you what'll happen if you attack another student!" Benjamin said.

Ezekiel sighed. "Reall—"

"_Silencio._" The spell hit Ezekiel in the throat, locking his vocal chords securely in place. "There, no more back-talk. _Expelliarmus!_" Ezekiel's wand was airborne with a surprising amount of force; Joshua was a much better spellcaster than Benjamin. "Not going to resist, Bohr?"

Ezekiel dispelled the Silencing Charm. "No. Just leave me alone."

Joshua's eyes narrowed. "Looks like there _is_ something odd about you, cancelling my charms without a wand. _Furnunculus!_"

The spell hit Ezekiel right in the face, sprouting huge, angry boils. The pain washed over his face, burning terribly, but he stood his ground. He glanced over to where Benjamin was, but he was just giving Ezekiel a stern glare, as if he was an unruly student. _Coward._

"_Periculum!_" A blast of red sparks struck Ezekiel at point-blank, driving him into the glass wall of Greenhouse 6. The pain stabbed at his chest and neck, searing his flesh like hot needles, so great that his legs gave out and he slid to his knees.

"Joshua, I think we've done enough," Benjamin said, hesitantly.

"No," Joshua said in a low voice, "he hasn't learned his lesson. _Periculum!_"

Another shower of angry red sparks struck Ezekiel in the back of his bowed head, burning through his hair and painfully singing his scalp. Ezekiel collapsed onto the hard ground, crying out in pain.

"_Wingardium Leviosa._" Ezekiel's head was pulled up into the air, dragging the rest of his body with it. When it stopped, he was stuck in a painful, arched sort of position, with tears of pain leaking out of his eyes and fists balled so tightly that blood drops of blood fell to the grass below.

"Joshua, stop, this is just torture."

"Quiet, Benjamin."

"We've done enough, there's no need to —"

"_Flipendo!_" Joshua's spell caught Benjamin by surprise, beating a magical fist into his chest and launching him backwards. Released from the charm, Ezekiel fell to his knees, panting heavily, a flame of rage kindling in him.

"You... stupid bully," Ezekiel gasped.

"What was that?"

"You'd attack your own friend, huh? Just for trying to do the right thing."

Joshua laughed. "He's not my friend. Just a tool, a useful peon —" He choked on his words then, because Ezekiel had somehow stood up and fixed his fingers around the Slytherin's throat.

"That is _despicable_."

"Let... go... me..." Joshua gasped through his constricted trachea.

"Why don't you go over there and apologize? That's what _friends_ do, you know."

Joshua spit in his face. "No... way."

"You're worthless." Then, with a burst of magical energy so powerful that thousands of sparks jumped off of Ezekiel's arm, he threw Joshua headfirst into the greenhouse wall, decimating the glass panes into a thousand pieces that fell like deadly raindrops onto the bloodied Slytherin and the hundreds of Carnivorous Cacti that, until then, had slumbered peacefully within the greenhouse.


	7. Action, and Madness

22:56 GMT

7 September, 1990

* * *

_Blood magic is one of the very first forms of magic, and one of the few that has appeared in recorded history consistently since history was first recorded. The practice is believed to have originated in Saharan Africa, shortly after the practice of organized magic was first established in ancient Egypt. The process of blood magic involves several litres of human blood, taken from two or more sacrifices. (Purebloods tend to have more potent blood than other humans in this case. It is believed that this ritual propagated the myth that led to modern blood purity discrimination.) This blood is used as an offering to a psychopomp, which will grant extraordinary magical power upon the offerer, at the cost of their early death._

* * *

Ezekiel shut the ancient book with a sigh. _Just my luck,_ he thought, burying his face in his hands. _The most powerful magic on this earth, and I get to stop it._

The hidden door swung open, signalling Tempest's return, but Ezekiel didn't need the heads-up. He could have spotted the anger seething off of her from a mile away.

"Bohr, what in the _hells_ are you doing picking fights with my —"

"— pet idiot? He started it."

"Not what I've heard, but whatever." Tempest fell into the chair across Ezekiel, glaring daggers at him. "He's in the Hospital Wing, you know. Still unconscious."

"Oh, good, maybe then he'll stay qui—"

Tempest's open palm struck Ezekiel much harder than he thought she was even capable of. But it wasn't the blow itself that bothered him, it was the surge of anger that rushed down through her arm, shooting through the momentary skin contact like a bolt of lightning. The force of it lanced through Ezekiel's mind with a red-hot cruelty that sent him reeling. Anger purged his entire brain, bringing forth every malicious thought he had ever had in his life, boiling them together and spewing them out as an indecipherable mess of random words that he shouted at the top of his lungs. Internal fire spread down his nerves, jolting his muscles painfully. He fell out of his chair onto his knees, gripping his head so tight that the blood in his veins echoed in his skull. A curtain of red dropped over his vision, slowly intensifying until his retinas felt ready to bleed out and his head pounded with unbearable pain. For a moment, a mere millisecond, a flash of Alex's entire mind impressed itself on Ezekiel, shooting a series of emotions under Ezekiel's inner eye — anger, a hint of smugness, guilt, more anger, and then the barest hint of... affection? Not for Garret, Ezekiel could tell, but he couldn't pinpoint who.

Then the emotion passed, flushing out of Ezekiel's body, leaving him shivering in freezing sweat and heaving painful breaths on the stone floor. For a few seconds — maybe a minute, or even more, suddenly Ezekiel couldn't tell — he knelt on the floor, filling his lungs with air that didn't manage to calm him down much.

"W-what in the world...?" Alex asked.

"I'd prefer if you didn't mention that to anyone," Ezekiel said between breaths.

"O-okay," she said. Ezekiel could detect the note of fear — fear of _him_ — in her voice.

"But you're going to want to know what it was, right?"

"Well, yeah."

"Fine," Ezekiel sighed, pulling himself up into his chair. "Ever heard of MPM?"

"Sure, Professor Binns mentioned it last year. Merlin had it."

"Remember what it does?"

"Of course," Alex said. "The sufferer can view and manipulate ambient magical energy. It lets them perform powerful wandless magic, and magic that would be impossible for other wizards." Ezekiel would have chuckled at her word choice - "sufferer" - but he couldn't spare a breath.

"Sound familiar?"

There was the briefest moment before it hit her, and she gasped. "That explains _everything!_ All of that crazy magic you can do —"

"Is the result of my condition," Ezekiel finished.

"And what you just did to Garret... what happened to Ben back in first year..."

"I'm not very good at hiding it."

"You're lucky we're the only two that pay attention to Binns," she said, chuckling dryly. "Otherwise you'd be in trouble."

"So you won't tell anyone?" Ezekiel asked.

"I promise," Alex said, "but what does MPM have to do with your little fit there?"

"Emotion has a very profound effect on MPM sufferers," Ezekiel explained. "We can read the emotions of anyone in vicinity, as a side effect."

"So?"

"You were angry, and you made skin contact, and it all hit me at once."

"Binns didn't mention that."

"Not many know about it."

"Wow," Alex said. Ezekiel could tell from the faraway look in her eyes that she was going through her memories of him, looking at them with new comprehension. He opened his book and continued reading the short chapter on blood magic.

"Is that why you're Head Boy this year? Because Dumbledore thinks you can use your ability to keep a better eye on the students?"

"Not quite," Ezekiel said.

"So you _wanted_ to be Head Boy?"

"Also wrong."

"Okay, then why?"

"Lorbechev," Ezekiel said. "I'm here to protect the students from her."

"What's so dangerous about her?"

Ezekiel slid the book over so Alex could read it. Her eyes raced across the page, slowly widening as she took in the information. She opened her mouth to say something, but at that moment a brilliant fireball materialized above the table, then disappeared, leaving behind a single phoenix feather and a small note.

"_She has struck,_" Ezekiel read aloud.

"Wait, that means —"

"I'm needed," Ezekiel said, pushing himself off of the chair. With a lazy hand gesture he cut a path through the Apparition wards, and stepped into nothingness.

* * *

Madam Pomfrey uttered a tiny scream of fright when Ezekiel suddenly appeared in the Hospital Wing. "H-how did you —"

"Now is not the time," Dumbledore said, his voice gravelly. Anxiety rolled off of him in waves. "Mr. Bohr, our former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor has taken leave of us, and brought along one of our students."

Ezekiel had figured it out as soon as the phoenix feather had guided him to the Hospital Wing. "Belmont."

"Indeed," Dumbledore rumbled. "Mr. Belmont is with her, and in his weakened state I don't believe he posed any sort of challenge to her. Have you discovered the reason for her... oddity?"

"Yes. The source of her power is a blood pact with a psychopomp," Ezekiel said, watching Dumbledore for his reaction.

The wizened man's eyes bulged slightly in surprise. "You... cannot be serious!"

"I don't understand," Madam Pomfrey said. "What does he mean?"

"Now is not the time, Poppy," Dumbledore said, shaking his head and stroking his beard absently. "It is truly fortunate that you are here, Mr. Bohr, as you are the only one who could possibly oppose her power."

"What do I need to do?"

"Pursue her, incapacitate her, and rescue Mr. Belmont."

"It may not be possible to merely incapacitate her," Ezekiel said.

"Then you must take her life," Dumbledore said, rubbing his temples as if he were in pain. "There is no other choice."

Ezekiel nodded and closed his eyes, sitting down on the recently vacated bed. His inner vision of the Fabric rushed onto him all at once, pushing at his senses from every direction. He sat perfectly still and watched, looking at each tiny string of flowing magic. Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey were large disturbances in the Fabric's perfect smoothness, but he could still pick out the faint hints of Lorbechev's trail. One by one he identified each point along her path, tracing her journey away from Hogwarts, far across the British countryside, taking a winding, confusing route among the clouds before coming to a rest in the outskirts of London, in a warehouse identical to the dozens around it. Ezekiel held the entire path firmly in his mind, and opened his eyes, ready to Apparate. Standing before him were Alex and Karl, poised for battle.

"We're coming with you," Alex said, gripping her wand tightly.

"Why?"

"Back-up," Karl said. "You'll need it against someone with powers like that."

"I won't," Ezekiel countered, "but you can do whatever you like."

Karl grinned uncharacteristically. "I plan to. Now, what's the situation?" He was wringing his hands in an excited manner, and his emotions were vibrating with tension.

"She's hiding in a warehouse on the outskirts of London," Ezekiel said. "I can't discern more than that without possibly losing the trail."

"It's likely a trap," Karl said. "If she wanted to shake our trail, she'd hop across the country to try and throw your trail."

"I figured the same thing," Ezekiel said, nodding.

"Why would she lay a trap?" Alex asked. "It seems pointless to try and lure in another student or teacher when she's already got one."

"Because I'm a threat that she thinks she can eliminate outside of Hogwarts," Ezekiel said. "Unfortunately for her, she's wrong."

"So the best thing to do is to Apparate somewhere outside the warehouse, and then investigate on-scene," Karl said.

Ezekiel was starting to realize Karl's worth, considering that Ezekiel would have done the same exact thing. "That's how I'd like to do it, but I can't risk fiddling with the path. We're going to have to dive straight in and take our chances."

Karl's excitement started to ebb. "Not a very good strategy."

"True, but it's all we can do."

"Any protective measures we can take?"

_Damn, I hadn't even thought of that._ "I can put some shields on us that should hold through the Apparition. But if Lorbechev is as powerful as I think she is, they'll only be able to keep you alive for a few seconds if she attacks instantly. I'll draw her attention, and you can get yourselves to cover and help me out from there."

"That sounds a lot better," Karl said.

"Wait," Alex said, "I have an idea."

* * *

Once the unpleasant sensation of Apparition subsided, there was a lull of silence and darkness that was not what Ezekiel had expected. He stood frozen to the concrete floor, scanning his surroundings with both eyes and magical sense. Stretching out in front and behind was a long aisle, lined by shelves that rose to the ceiling. An assortment of different packages in varying sizes were organized neatly on the shelves, nearly filling them, but leaving some spaces open. He could tell that there were at least a dozen of these aisles on his right and left, and the shelves were pretty much filled.

His magical sense detected nothing. Not a trace of magic anywhere, not even the weak trail that Garret should have left if he had been taken here. A more careful look-over failed to reveal any bizarre distortions, like the one around Lorbechev's power source. _She's perfected the technique, now that she knows I can see her._

"Is she here?" Karl asked, looking around warily, wand in hand.

"Most likely," Ezekiel said. "She's hiding."

He kept every sense straining to catch any sort of disturbance around him.

"_Stupefy!_" Ezekiel whirled to the direction of the incantation and saw a red bolt shooting out of the tip of Karl's wand, flying straight down the aisle and exploding, as if it had struck something. As the sparks died away, so too did the invisible wall that had covered a large cubic area in the middle of their aisle. Inside was Garret, who was bound, unconscious, and propped against the shelf, and Lorbechev, who was in the process of pulling down the barrier. In an instant, Ezekiel had pulled up ten different barriers enveloping the entire area around him.

"I'm impressed," she said, looking pointedly at Karl. "How is it that you knew we were here?"

"I could hear Garret breathing," Karl replied, his wand trained on Lorbechev.

Lorbechev's eyebrows raised in astonishment. "Your senses are sharp. How would you like to come along with me?"

"How d'you mean?" Karl asked.

Ezekiel didn't know if Karl was serious or not, but he was glad for the chance to start preparing offensive spells, storing them as locked enchantments on the objects around him. If Lorbechev attacked, she would receive a deadly barrage of different spells at once.

"The Dark Lord could use wizards like you," Lorbechev said. "He would be greatly interested in you, and he rewards those who are useful to him."

"The Dark Lord is dead," Karl replied. "Harry Potter killed him."

Lorbechev smirked. "The Dark Lord is hidden away, recuperating after the unfortunate incident with the Potter boy. He will return, I can promise you that."

"I don't see why I should associate myself with someone who has no power."

"But if you were to help me return his power," Lorbechev said, "_and_ give him information on Hogwarts, then I'm sure he would hold you in highest esteem, and I can return this boy here," she indicated Garret, "as he would no longer be useful."

"That's why you kidnapped Belmont? For information on Hogwarts?" Ezekiel interjected.

"Hogwarts is the biggest obstacle for the Dark Lord's ascension to power," Lorbechev replied, shrugging lazily. "It is logical that I should gather information about it, to aid in its destruction."

"I doubt that he can give you enough information to really be of any help," Karl remarked.

"Of course not, he's next-to-useless," Lorbechev said, throwing a contemptuous glance at the Hufflepuff's limp body. "However, he is a useful bargaining chip. Mr. Bohr, if you interfere, I will kill him. If you leave me and Mr. Mueller to our business, then I will release him."

Ezekiel gritted his teeth, muttering a constant stream of vulgarities under his breath. He didn't like being backed into a corner.

"So, Mr. Mueller? What will it be?"

Karl regarded her shrewdly. "You are confident that you can restore the Dark Lord to his former power?"

"Absolutely."

"Then I accept." Karl began walking, approaching the edge of Ezekiel's barrier. Ezekiel saw his chance, and acted. A single step backwards with his right foot, and his left fist unclenched.

* * *

Flitwick gave up trying to control the Ravenclaws, and decided instead to seal the door to the common room. With steps that were surprisingly quick and coordinated for a man of his stature, he made his way down the spiral staircase, then through a secret passage underneath a floor tile, and emerged from under the main stairway, in the entry hall. He strode out onto the grounds, and down the path to the gate, his long cloak billowing behind him.

Dumbledore heard him approaching, of course, but chose to sustain his vigil instead of reacting. The small wizard stopped half a pace back from the edge of the Hogwarts grounds, beside and just behind Dumbledore.

"The Ravenclaws are... relatively under control, and all students accounted for, save for the two," Flitwick reported.

"Thank you, Filius. You may commence waiting at your own leisure."

Flitwick ignored the jest, instead casting a wary glance at Dumbledore's companion. "May I ask why you're allowing her to stay out here, Headmaster? Shouldn't she be in the castle, where it's safe?"

A small smile tilted Dumbledore's lips. "The second or third safest place for her is right here, with me, Filius," he responded. "I can keep one student safe."

"But, uh, why her?"

Dumbledore hummed a lighthearted melody to himself.

Shaking his head and sighing, Flitwick turned and made his way back to the castle.

"Should I go inside, Headmaster?"

"No, Miss Arol, you may stay here."

"Thank you, Headmaster."

* * *

"_Mutras!_"

A silent spell of Ezekiel's invention struck Lorbechev in the back with tremendous force. All twenty-one of the barriers, both for protection and undetectability, that Ezekiel had placed on Alex were absorbed into the shot, creating a bolt of white energy that hit the frail woman in the back like a freight train. She was knocked off-balance, her defenses ruptured, and in that moment, Ezekiel released all of his stored-spells at once. A terrible rain of magical energy descended upon her body, exploding together in a spectacular display of colored flame and smoke. A high-pitched scream echoed throughout the entire building, from the spells colliding with each other. The concrete beneath Lorbechev cracked with an awful noise from heat expansion, then liquified at once, plunging her into a steaming, gelatinous mass of molten stone. The metal frames of the bordering shelves began to morph and melt under the tremendous barrage of magical energy and heat.

"Karl, get Belmont!" Ezekiel yelled over the din, but Karl had already launched into a dead sprint to recover their fellow student. Ezekiel jumped with a jet of magical force, leaping over the blast zone and landing in front of Alex, who had backed away from the explosions until she had slipped and fallen. Ezekiel layered shield upon shield over her before helping her to stand up.

An earsplitting screech filled the warehouse, hitting Ezekiel with the force of a hurricane. The molten concrete was blown out of the blast zone as the magical flames and smoke disappated. What was left was an empty crater, with a convulsing black mass at the bottom. A powerful aura of blood magic emanated from it, seeping nausea down Ezekiel's throat. Karl and Belmont weren't in sight, but Ezekiel could sense them on the other side of the shelf. Belmont was unconscious, slumped against the shelf. Karl was further down the aisle, and his mind was filled with pain; of what type, Ezekiel could not tell. _He must have been caught in the blast. At least he's still alive._

Out of the black cloud Lorbechev materialized, her features now so reptilian that Ezekiel wasn't even sure if she had ever been human. She clawed her way up the side of the crater, her red eyes fixed on Ezekiel, a palpable hate focused on him.

Ezekiel didn't stop to think, his revulsion took control and directed his actions. A massive wave of raw magical energy leapt from his fingertips, striking Lorbechev with a blow that would have vaporized any lesser creature. The concrete around her shattered when the attack struck her, sending shards flying backwards, bouncing off of metal shelves and cascading sparks everywhere. Lorbechev hissed with pain and shrunk back, blood now oozing out of her nose and eye sockets. Ezekiel struck again, with less force now that his stamina was dwindling, and she fell backwards into the crater, whining in pain.

He built up energy for another attack, but she acted first. With an angry screech she was instantly transformed into a cloud of black, pulsating energy. The energy arced into Belmont's body like lightning, filling him with blood magic for that single moment before it overwhelmed him. The life faded from his body, and what was left of Lorbechev dissipated into the ground.

Exhausted, Ezekiel slumped to the floor. His vision began to tunnel, and he sank down, about to fall onto the concrete before Alex caught him.

"Are you okay?" she asked, holding him in a sitting position.

"Just tired," Ezekiel replied. He lurched forward and crawled over to where he could sit upright against the shelf's support strut. He looked at Alex, who seemed mostly unharmed.

"I'm going to check on Karl and Garret," she said, pushing herself up and cautiously approaching the empty space in the shelf. Ezekiel felt that he probably should warn her, but he didn't have the energy. The pitiful moan that escaped her lips a second later was the underscore of his failure. He hadn't even managed to save the captor. With the weight of dejection filling him with an awful sensation, he gave himself over to the embrace of unconsciousness.

* * *

16:30 GMT

11 December, 1984

* * *

There was a moment where Ezekiel felt a glow of satisfaction. _Two-on-one,_ he thought, _and they didn't stand a chance._

Then the red film of bloodlust dropped from his eyes, and his senses caught up with him. He had just thrown a fellow student into a greenhouse full of carnivorous plants. His first, vindictive thought was to leave it be. Joshua deserved it.

_No,_ some part of his mind said. _He's a petty bully, he doesn't deserve to die, not like that._

_But what can I do about it? _he asked himself, stupidly.

_Oh, right._ Ezekiel jumped with a burst of magic up into the jagged hole in the greenhouse wall.

The Cacti hadn't fully woken up yet. Neither had Joshua - he had struck the other side of the greenhouse, bounced off, and hit the floor. Ezekiel shot across the greenhouse and landed beside Joshua. He bent to lift the Slytherin's motionless body, but not before the nearest Cactus took notice of him and attacked.

The Cactus' sharp teeth sunk into his skin, pulverizing the small area of flesh that they could reach. Ezekiel batted at it, but all he accomplished was to drive some spines into his hand. Another Cactus jumped onto Ezekiel's back, then another, and another. Ezekiel staggered forward, gasping from pain, and turned to face his aggressors.

The entire table of Cacti had awoken at this point, and they were all rushing forward to jump him. Ten of them latched onto his chest, and a dozen more dropped off the table in favor of attacking his ankles. A quick spell conjured a ball of flame that he flung into the center of the group, but the charred remains of their comrades failed to discourage the rest of them. He pulled another fireball out of the Fabric, but he had barely thrown it when the Cacti attacked his knees, ripping at the tendons and forcing him to the ground. He tried to ignore the blood running in rivulets down his body, but his head became light and his senses softened. Another fireball sprung up, but the Cacti jumped for his hand before he could even throw it. It was a matter of seconds before his consciousness faded. The last thing that his senses could press on his dulled brain was the feeling of intense heat, and a dancing orange light.

* * *

"We need to control these incidents, Headmaster!"

Dumbledore sighed and rubbed an aching temple. "You're right, of course, Filius," he said. "But don't worry, I have an idea."

"Any chance you're going to let someone in on it _before_ implementing this idea, Headmaster?" Flitwick asked, as if admonishing a child.

"Of course not," Dumbledore replied, "that would be no fun at all."

Flitwick shook his head, too dumbfounded to speak.

"Do not despair, Filius, I solemnly swear that it will probably work."

"Very well, Headmaster," Flitwick said, "but if you'll excuse me, I'm going to start blast-proofing the Ravenclaw dormitories, just in case." Then he turned and left, with but a passing glance at the two bandaged figures in the hospital beds.

Dumbledore pushed himself off of his small chair in the corner, and made his way towards Madam Pomfrey, who was busy bandaging Ezekiel.

"How are they doing?"

"Mr. Velk will be fine once he wakes up," she responded. "He was just a little bruised."

"And Ezekiel?"

"His wounds won't heal for some time, and he'll need to recover at least a liter of blood. That will take a week at best."

"I see," Dumbledore said. "May I speak with him?"

"No," Madam Pomfrey replied, "but you're going to anyway, aren't you?"

Dumbledore sighed dramatically. "Does any of my staff trust me anymore?"

"I've had to save as many students from you as I've had to save from life-threatening injuries," she said, waving her wand to revive Ezekiel.

* * *

Ezekiel sat straight up, yelling, "Cacti!"

Dumbledore chuckled softly. "Now there's something I don't hear every day."

"Joshua?" Ezekiel gasped.

"— will be fine. Your concern is admirable."

"He... mad... couldn't... Cacti..." Ezekiel sputtered, gripping the metal frame of the bed until it turned red-hot and burned his fingers.

"Please, calm down, Mr. Bohr," Dumbledore said. "_Adlevus_."

Ezekiel watched the spell float serenely through the Fabric, settling on his raw fingers and healing the skin in an instant. He closed his eyes, and let the Fabric wash over him, feeling the small eddies that rippled out on his every heartbeat. Slowly, his breathing settled into a constant pattern.

"Are you coherent?" Dumbledore asked.

Ezekiel nodded dumbly.

"Very well. I have an offer to make you, Mr. Bohr. This may be your first year at Hogwarts, but I think you probably realize that such incidents as you have been involved in thus far are not at all common."

Ezekiel nodded again.

"These incidents should not continue to occur, Mr. Bohr. Therefore, I shall offer you a choice. You may accept special instruction from me on handling your magic _and_ your temperament, or you may take your chances and potentially be expelled or arrested."

It took a moment for Dumbledore's words to sink into Ezekiel's brain. It took less than a moment for him to decide. "The special instruction, of course."

Dumbledore smiled warmly. "Very good. That should mollify Filius."

"What will you be teaching me?" Ezekiel asked, his curiosity alight.

"Oh, a little of this, a little of that," said Dumbledore airily.


	8. The End, and The Beginning

09:12 GMT

8 September, 1990

* * *

In the back of his mind, he was vaguely aware of the dark of Apparition enveloping him, and a hand on his wrist. The sound of choked sobs also seemed readily apparent, but he didn't really think about it. The warm darkness of sleep was on him, and he was powerless to resist. There was suddenly the sensation of intense warmth, and a red glow suffused his perception. Some voices spoke around him, but they were muffled and indistinct.

"_Ennervate._"

Ezekiel's eyes shot open as all of his sense sharpened and clarified. He was sitting on a gravel road, propped against one of the winged boar statues that flanked the Hogwarts gate. The sun was beating on his skin, and there were faces around him.

Alex was on his left. Her cheeks were damp with tears, but she looked to have regained her composure. She sighed with relief when she saw he was awake. "Thought you were a goner for a minute there."

"Mr. Bohr is stronger than you think, Ms. Tempest," Dumbledore said from his standing position, looking down on Ezekiel.

Ezekiel looked up at the Headmaster, and said, "Lorbechev is dead, but she took Belmont with her."

Dumbledore nodded gravely, a look of intense sadness on his face. "The first death of a Hogwarts student for nearly fifty years. It is terrible, indeed."

Ezekiel nodded to himself, then caught another person in his peripheral. He looked to his right, and was met with a pair of wide, green eyes. Janice smiled at him, a look of obvious relief on her face. "Welcome back."

* * *

The rising sun threw brilliant rays of light through the window, but Ezekiel preferred the shade. He kept to the edge of the sofa, watching as the sunlight slowly spread across the mountains on the edge of Hogwarts Lake. It would be an hour or so until the light would fill most of the room, and he would have to move to the library.

"Hey." Alex vaulted over the back of the sofa and sat cross-legged at the other end, doused in brilliant sunbeams.

"Hey."

"How long have you been sitting here?"

"A while," Ezekiel replied.

They were both silent for a moment, watching the light slowly wash down to the banks of the lake.

"You sound like you're doing better today," Ezekiel said, remembering the despondent feelings that had emanated from her room for the entire night. "Are you?"

She sighed. "I think so. I hope so."

"I'm glad."

The light struck the very edge of the lake, casting a silver sheen over the water where it touched.

"Now, tell me," Alex said, turning to face him with a grin, "what are _you_ going to do?"

"About what?"

"You know what I'm talking about," she said. "She was there to meet us at the gate, wasn't she?"

Ezekiel kept his silence, watching the light spread slowly across the lake's surface.

* * *

18:55 GMT

21 December, 1984

* * *

"Mr. Bohr?" Madam Pince peeked around the edge of a bookshelf. "You have been summoned."

Ezekiel looked up from his book and opened his mouth to ask who was summoning him, but she was already gone. Madam Pince had never liked him much.

He shut the dusty book and left it where it was, expecting to come back shortly. When he reached the front desk of the library, Madam Pince pointed at the double doors leading into the fourth-floor hallway. Pushing them open, Ezekiel was confronted by Dumbledore and two people that he had never seen before – a large man with a black beard and a chest twice as wide as Dumbledore, and a blonde woman who could not have been taller than Ezekiel.

"Ah, here he is," Dumbledore said, smiling jovially. "I'll leave you three to it, then."

"Wait, Professor, who are these people?"

Dumbledore only chuckled. "I would hate to rob them of the chance to tell you themselves, Mr. Bohr. I'll be off, now." He turned and strolled down the hallway, humming softly.

Shaking his head, Ezekiel turned his gaze to the couple standing before him. They were regarding him with a mixture of surprise and awe.

"So... who are y—" The man suddenly pulled Ezekiel into a tight bear hug, lifting him off of his feet and driving the breath from his lungs.

"We're your parents, Zeke," he said, crushing Ezekiel tighter. "We've been waiting eleven years to meet you."

Ezekiel sucked in breath when his father released him. "My parents?"

The woman – his mother – smiled, wiping away a couple stray tears. "Yes, that's right."

"But, but neither of you have any significant magical energy," Ezekiel said, the words tumbling out of his mouth. "I always thought – my powers – I don't —"

"It's a mystery to us, too," his father said, chuckling.

"We'll need plenty of time to talk about it, I'm sure," his mother said, "but we can do that in the car. Come on, Zeke."

"Where are we going?"

"Home, of course," she replied.

"For Christmas!" his father added. "You didn't think we'd leave you in this dusty old castle, did you? Come on, then!"

Ezekiel hesitated. Behind him, there were thousands of books that he had barely delved into, that he knew he could make at least a little progress on if he read the entire winter break. Millions of pages of new information waited for him...

_...but they can wait a bit longer._

_Fin._


	9. Addendum

**Ezekiel Bohr:**

Ezekiel finished his seventh year with ten N.E.W.T.s, although without any of the accolades usually given to a student of above-average magical talent. Despite the Ministry keeping close tabs on him, he mysteriously disappeared a few weeks after his graduation. Unsurprisingly, the Department of Magical Transportation was unable to find any record of him having left the country through Apparition, a Portkey, a Phoenix, or any traditional aerial or naval transportation methods. His whereabouts remain uncertain.

**Alexandra Kara Tempest:**

Graduating from Hogwarts with nine N.E.W.T.s, Alex received several special awards from the Board of Governors and Headmaster Dumbledore himself. She immediately received a job from the Ministry in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as a secretary. Within two years she had been promoted to Especial Investigator, and within five she was Chief Investigator. She shares a close bond with Karl Mueller even after several years; many assume that they are lovers, but neither has ever let such a thing slip in public.

**Karl Ernst Mueller:**

Karl graduated two years after Ezekiel and Alexandra, with six N.E.W.T.s. With a bit of help from Alex, he was able to gain employment in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, where he pioneered the Zoietic and Alchemical Investigation Office. There, he works in a close partnership with Alex, investigating evidence from crime scenes in much the same way that forensic agents in Muggle police departments do.

**Janice Chloe Arol:**

Graduating from Hogwarts with six N.E.W.T.s, Janice didn't tell anyone what she planned to do after school, and it is likely that she didn't even know herself. Any plans she may have had were cut short when Ezekiel disappeared. Only a couple days after his disappearance, Janice, too, left the country, but was unable to hide her traces. Her Apparition was traced to Rimi, Nepal, and it is believed by the Ministry that Ezekiel is in the same location. However, at Alex's personal request, no investigation was mounted. Janice has since remained out-of-touch with the Wizarding World.


End file.
